


Paranoia

by nafnaf



Category: Persona 5
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Barebacking, Begging, Blow Jobs, Dirty Talk, Hand Jobs, Light Bondage, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Party Games, Praise Kink, Rough Sex, Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-10
Updated: 2018-03-10
Packaged: 2019-03-29 00:18:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,166
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13915329
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nafnaf/pseuds/nafnaf
Summary: The Phantom Thieves play a game. Ren gets a little more out of it than he bargained for.





	Paranoia

**Author's Note:**

> i've actually lost all of my mental capabilities of writing something complex & meaningful so here is this stress reliever fic. if we know each other personally please pretend i didn't write this

“Who’s ready to spice up this party a little?”

Ren’s eyes land on Ann, who rises from her seat with an impish grin playing on her lips. The rest of the Thieves regard her half with curiosity, half with barely-contained dread—aside from Akechi, who appears delighted at her proposal. He tilts his head to the side, fascination glimmering in his eyes as he says, “What do you have in mind?”

Her smile widening, Ann drags an appropriate number of folding chairs to the center of the room, urging the part of the group that wasn’t already seated to claim a chair. “Come on, let’s all gather in a circle!” she says. “I have a game I want to play.”

“A game, you say?” Yusuke glances at Ren, who merely shrugs in response. Ann isn’t usually clear with her intentions, and given the context of her idea, Ren isn’t sure he likes the direction it’s headed. Regardless, he pulls up a chair to sit next to Ann and Haru; directly across the circle sits Akechi, who seems to be asking an irritated Ryuji several lengthy questions. Ren hides a smile behind his hand. He doesn’t know why his eyes seek out the detective in particular, but it’s been interesting observing the other’s reactions to their unusual company.

Anyways. The game. Once all the Thieves have settled, Ann stands at the center of the circle, arms akimbo and a smirk on her face. “All right. Today, we’re playing Paranoia.”

“Paranoia?” Haru echoes, her expression inquisitive. Ann nods vigorously.

“Yup! The rules are really simple. Basically, one person is going to come up with a question—it can be anything, as long as it can be answered with one of our names—and whisper it to the person on their right. That person will say the name aloud, but no one will know what the question is until we do the coin flip. If the coin lands on heads, the person is required to recite what question they were asked.  For example—” She points at Futaba. “Say you ask Yusuke who he wouldn’t mind kissing. And then, maybe he says Ryuji—”

“What the eff, Ann?” Ryuji grumbles, slouching in his chair.

“Shut up, it’s an example. Anyways, he says Ryuji, and Ryuji isn’t gonna know why his name was said. We do the coin flip, and it lands on tails. Now only _Futaba_ knows the reason Yusuke said his name—it’s a mystery to the rest of us. However, if it lands on _heads,_ now the entire _group_ is privy to this delicious secret!”

“This is incredibly childish,” Makoto mutters, a flush on her cheeks. Ann, turning around to stick her tongue out at her, just sits back down instead of retaliating.

“For the record, don’t make this party any more boring than it already is! Ask some really embarrassing questions, people!” Ann kicks her legs up and down in excitement. “Here, here, I’ll start. Ren, I’m going to ask you a question!”

Ren folds his arms across his chest. “Okay, okay.” Truth be told, he isn’t all that thrilled to be the first sacrificial lamb; Ann has a mastery in humiliating others. Just his luck that he chose to sit next to her. _Well,_ he thinks, briefly closing his eyes, _at least, if Akechi manages to kill me, I won’t have to live with the embarrassment for long._

“Well then, Ren,” Ann whispers, directly next to his ear, “who here do you think is the most likely to be into BDSM?”

Ren nearly recoils at the question, and around them several of the Thieves begin to laugh. “What did she ask you?” Futaba probes excitedly, but Ann puts a finger to her lips, winking. Ren bites his lip to prevent himself from revealing too much through his expression.

Logically, such a question shouldn’t hurt his reputation more than it should hurt whoever’s name is unlucky enough to be uttered—but, if the question is revealed, he might be subjected to the victim’s fists as a result. His best option would be to choose someone safe. Someone who would brush it off easily. Someone who…

… His eyes drift in the direction of Akechi. Akechi is equally as likely to laugh and dismiss the comment as he is to plant a bullet in Ren’s skull, but. Still. Some part of Ren’s brain lights up with exhilaration at the thought of accusing Akechi of such a thing, only to keep the dirty secret between he and Ann alone. The thought of being exposed, on the other hand, provides the same level of excitement as keeping Akechi in the dark does.  

By now, the others are watching him with anticipation. Well, here goes nothing.

“I’d say… Akechi.”

Ann barks out a laugh. Murmurs ripple among the group, Akechi cocking a brow at the sound of his name. “Me?” he asks incredulously, as an uncertain chuckle escapes his lips, pleasant like always. “Well, I must admit I’m curious. Shall we proceed with the coin flip?”

“Ren’s fate shall soon be decided!” Ann chirps, still stifling mirth. She presents the coin to the group, positioning it over her thumb and forefinger before flicking the coin and letting it fly into the air. As it lands, multiple of the Thieves crawl closer for a look. Makoto gasps. Ann laughter turns near hysterical.

“It’s tails!”

“Damn it!” Futaba exclaims, stamping her feet. “I wanted to know what she asked!”

Slightly relieved, Ren releases a sigh, his shoulders shaking with nervous titters. Akechi’s gaze is boring into him, and even from this distance, Ren can feel it burning into his skin. “It better have been nothing scandalous,” Akechi says lowly. The dark tone of voice makes a shudder dart down Ren’s spine, and he quickly schools his expression.

“It’s Ann we’re talking about. You should expect no less from her.” The challenging expression Akechi shoots him causes his chest to swell inexplicably. Well damn. Ren kind of wishes the coin had landed on heads now. However, with everyone’s attention concentrated on him, he must turn to the next victim—Haru Okumura.

There is a wobbly smile on her face; mercifully, Ren decides to take it easy on the poor girl. Leaning forward, enough that no one should be able to read his lips, he murmurs, “Haru, of all of us here… which one is the most likely to become a serial robber?”

“Oh!” Haru’s eyes widen at the words, but she’s giggling, already set on her answer. “That would be Yusuke, of course!”

“What?” Yusuke is surprisingly levelheaded despite the gravity of the situation. He looks across the room at Ren, who has a hand clapped over his mouth. “Ren… that smile you’re attempting to hide must not indicate anything favorable. Ann, I request you flip the coin posthaste.”

“Don’t even needa ask.” Ann grins, flipping the coin and peering down at it once it lands on her lap. “Ooh… It’s a heads. Sorry, Haru, Ren’s gotta tell us what he asked you!”

“It’s okay,” Haru says, though the flush on her cheeks contradicts her apparent calm.

Stuffing his hands in his pockets, Ren keeps his expression flat as he collects his answer. “I basically asked who she’d think would be a kleptomaniac in the future.”

Haru’s cheeks grow even redder. The blush worsens when the group starts chattering amongst themselves, Yusuke himself looking particularly scandalized. “Th-That wasn’t it _exactly!_ ” she interjects, then deflates a little. “But… if you mean _basically_ , then yes, he’s right.”

“I wouldn’t engage in such petty thievery.” Yusuke frowns. “Would I?”

“Weeell…” The question evolves into a full-blown discussion, Ryuji and Ann at the head, reminding Yusuke of the many things he’d attempted to do during their Palace excursions. Akechi seems absorbed in the conversation, smiling unguardedly for once. Ren’s eyes linger a bit too long on his face. There’s no sign that he’s uncomfortable with the topic at the hand (let alone, the game itself) but something sharp lies beneath those crimson irises. Something unfamiliar. Playfulness, perhaps? Or is it anticipation?

Suddenly, Akechi’s eyes slide in his direction, and Ren drops his gaze as fast as lightning. Damn. He was caught. Chancing a glance back up, he notices that Akechi has returned to his initial conversation, though this time with a wider smile on his face. Is it a little hot in here? _Shit._ Ren slouches in his chair, hoping to hide some of the redness in his cheeks.

“Enough about the jagariko,” Makoto says after a moment, interrupting whatever heated discussion had been stirring prior. “I believe it’s Haru’s turn to ask me a question. Correct?”

Eager for the change in topic, Haru readily agrees. “Yes! Let us keep playing the game.”

Haru taps her chin and smiles a little as she comes up with a question. While she does so, Futaba leans forward to stage-whisper, “Now I know why this game is called Paranoia,” and there are hums of agreement all around. Ren can definitely recognize the anxiety apparent on Makoto’s face, and when Haru murmurs in Makoto’s ear, the girl’s shoulders go stiff with tension, ears and face an amusing dark red color.

“Haru!” Ann gasps next to him, outrageously loud. “What did you ask Makoto? I’ve never seen her so flustered before!”

Haru smiles serenely, revealing nothing. The most they can do is wait for Makoto’s response, though at this point, it seems like she’s hardly in any condition to be responding. Finally, through a stutter, Makoto says, quiet like a mouse: “Ann.”

“Oooh!” Haru squeals all of a sudden; she’s positively _overjoyed,_ her hands clasped together in a gesture of happiness. Multiple people clamor forward.

“What’s that s’posed mean?” Ryuji urges.

“I bet it was something _nasty_ ,” Futaba adds on, snickering for good measure. Immediately, Ann faces Haru, her expression set between horror and curiosity.

“Nasty?”

“Now, now,” Akechi calms them, tapping the excitable Ryuji’s shoulder and prompting him to sit back down. “The coin flip will tell us everything we need to know. Isn’t that right?”

Ann, recovering from her initial unease, swallows and nods. She flips the coin with a certain reluctance. With everyone’s gaze trained towards the coin, Ann picks it up and peers down at it, announcing, “It’s heads!” Ren can’t tell whether she’s scared or relieved.

Makoto, for her part, looks horrified at the result. She covers her face in her hands, falling forward to hide it even further in her lap.

“Oooh, that’s a good reaction!” Futaba teases, elbowing Yusuke next to her.

“Do tell us.” Even Yusuke looks invested now.

With the same unaffected smile, Haru puts a hand on Makoto’s shoulder and appraises the group. “I asked her: ‘If you had to cover someone's body in whipped cream and lick it all off, who would you choose?’” And her smile turns near mocking. “And she chose Ann!”

“ _Me?_ ” Ann squeaks, as Futaba has to stand up and brace herself on the wall to contain her sniggering. Ren, too, presses his palms to his face to hide the grin that threatens to surface there, and when he peeks through his fingers, he spots Akechi in his line of vision.

Akechi is… _flustered_. His brows are raised, cheeks pink and pleasant smile a tinge more uncertain. It’s cute, dangerously so. But somehow Akechi discovers Ren staring; he passes him an incredulous glance, and Ren can’t help but drop his hands and let his laughter flow freely, especially when Makoto loses her temper and punches Ryuji in the stomach. “Don’t _try_ me,” she says through gritted teeth. “I wouldn’t have chosen any of you perverted _guys_ for several reasons. That left me Ann and Futaba. Ann was the obvious choice, no offense, Futaba—”

“None taken!” The pitch of Futaba’s voice is humorously high thanks to her laughing fit. “But holy shit, Haru, you barbarian! I never knew you were so dirty-minded.”

“I know how to have fun!” Haru argues, pouting childishly.

“Sorry, sorry—I just, I didn’t think you could be so gap moe outside of the Metaverse—”

“Can we _move on?_ ” Makoto’s scowling now, and if Ren knew any better, he’d think she was plotting revenge against them. Certainly, the way she leans towards Ryuji, eerily calm, is cause for concern; her expression is as blank as anything as she whispers to him, maybe longer than necessary because enough time passes for Ryuji’s eyes to widen to the size of saucers. He sputters indignantly, standing up so fast his chair scrapes a few inches back.

“No way! I am _not_ answering that!”

“What? It’s only fair.” Makoto shrugs. “Don’t worry, it’s just a game, Ryuji.”

That doesn’t help with Futaba’s laughter at all. Nor does it diminish the entertained grin on Ren’s face, and for a moment, Ren can feel Akechi’s eyes on him before it noticeably flits away. Weird.

“… Fine. I just gotta choose one of you guys, right?” Ryuji’s eyes dart between the Thieves for a while before he says decisively, “Haru.”

Makoto seems unfazed at the answer, if not a little put-off. “Haru.”

“Haru?” says Haru.

“Oh my god, what did you ask him?” Futaba groans, and Ryuji shoots her an annoyed look. “Don’t blame me for being suspicious!” she continues. “I mean, you were literally yelling at Makoto for her question earlier, which is like, totally fishy.”

“Just flip the damn coin,” Ryuji grumbles, sitting back down.

Ren catches the barest of a smug smile tugging at Makoto’s lips, and then she drops it immediately, casting her calculating gaze onto Ann. Ann, restless from the attention, positions the coin over her fingers. Ryuji starts to ramble as she does so: “I _know_ you did that on purpose, Makoto, but didja have to take out your humiliation on me?”

“If I go down, so should everyone else,” Makoto answers, watching Ann flip the coin.

“Umm…” Ann lowers her head towards the floor. “It’s tails!”

“Thank _god!_ ” Ryuji smiles wide with relief, and Futaba throws down her glasses in frustration.

“What the hell! Flip it again, I bet he cheated.”

“How do I _cheat_ on a _coin flip?_ ”

“Who cares?” Futaba pouts. “Makoto, tell me the question you asked him after this,” she pleads, wide-eyed, to which Makoto responds with a frown.

“Then what’s the point of playing this game?”

“… That’s… well…”

Ryuji cheers victoriously and crosses his arms over his chest. “Whine all you want, Futaba, but those’re the rules and we’re abiding by them. Anyways, enough of that stuff—it’s _my_ turn to ask Akechi a question!”

With that, he turns towards the boy in question, mischief glinting in his eyes. Ren starts to feel unnecessarily nervous for no reason. If there’s anything he knows about Ryuji, it’s that it’s not completely out of character for him to, as it were, “exact revenge” on the people he dislikes. This is especially true of the Detective Prince, whom Ryuji seems to have an affinity for bad-mouthing. _Yeah,_ Ren thinks. _He’s definitely up to something._

Akechi, though outwardly composed, has the faintest note of anxiety in his posture in the way his shoulders are hunched and his brows are drawn, and it’s truthfully the most high-strung Ren has ever seen Akechi. “Do your worst,” Akechi says, managing a tight smile.

“Oh, now you’re just askin’ for it.” Ryuji scoots towards Akechi. “You said you wanted this game to get interesting, right, Ann?”

Ann nods, giving a little whistle. “Hell yeah! I’m a bit scared of what you have in mind, Ryuji, but make this _really_ interesting for our new recruit.”

“Are you egging him on?” Akechi looks displeased, but doesn’t protest when Ryuji draws closer to whisper in his ear. After a moment, Akechi’s brows jump up his forehead; he’s clearly trying to cling onto some shred of his dignity, but with his ears as red as they are, it’s apparent that some part of his armor has cracked. Ryuji, himself, looks particularly pleased as he pulls away. He rests his arms behind his head and leans back, unable to hide his wolfish grin.

“So? Who’re you gonna pick, Akechi?”

“You’re making this terribly hard for me, you know.” Akechi massages his neck, but there isn’t a trace of hesitation in his voice. His eyes are trained solely on Ren.

Ren returns his gaze, questioning. Akechi merely lists his head to the side and hums.

“I would have to say… Ren,” he answers, smiling.

Ryuji chokes on air.

“ _Him?_ ” Ryuji repeats, and wordlessly, Akechi nods. Then Ryuji bursts into laughter. “Holy shit! You’re _serious._ ”

Ren is bemused, but when he tries to seek Akechi’s gaze once more for an answer, Akechi doesn’t give it to him. He has zeroed in on the coin in Ann’s hand, which she fingers between her thumb and forefinger. Eventually, Ann notices his scrutiny; she glances at him and a smirk overtakes her features. She raises the coin above her head, waving it teasingly.

“Shall we flip it?”

“This is exciting!” Haru remarks, bouncing in her seat. “Come on, Ann! Hurry, hurry!”

Nodding once, she flicks it into the air. Ren channels all of his energy into that cursed coin, hoping to make it land on heads by sheer force of will, and then—it lands on its side, rolling towards the center of the circle before it lands, finally, on heads.

Ren releases a heavy breath.

“Oh, would you look at that.” Akechi doesn’t even sound bothered by it.

“Man, he’s calm now, but wait ‘til you hear what I asked him,” Ryuji snarks, voice more than a little smug.

Though so far Ren has been good at keeping quiet during the duration of the game, he speaks up without willing it. “Stop stalling and tell us already.”

“Damn, don’t have to be so pushy.” Ryuji snickers. He removes his arms from behind his head to plant them on the edge of his chair, leaning forward with a kind of enthusiasm that fills Ren with dread. “Jus’ asked him who he wouldn’t mind giving oral, that’s all!”

It’s Ren’s turn to choke.

“ _Ryuji!_ ” Ann chastises, but the laugh in her voice indicates otherwise. Makoto’s face is a mix between shock and disgust, with Haru giggling happily next to her. Futaba not only has to excuse herself, but she actually _leaves_ the room, her hysterical laughter echoing down the stairs while she does so. Yusuke, meanwhile, is understandably confused.

“‘Oral’? What’s that? Like, a dental examination?” he inquires.

“No, dude!” Ryuji huffs. “Listen, it’s… Ann, can you explain it to him?”

Ren can feel his cheeks glow with heat, and he clamps a hand over his mouth, fighting his growing blush. Akechi’s placid yet knowing gaze on him does nothing to ease the tension— _how can he be so composed?_ Ren wonders irritably, sinking into his seat. But there’s an intensity in Akechi’s eyes that cannot be ignored. Eyes that Ren only sees in the Metaverse.

Eyes that want to take something apart, piece by piece.

“So it’s a sexual practice,” Yusuke says finally.

Ann hums, the widest grin on her face, and she faces Akechi to tilt her head and question, “Why did you choose Ren, Akechi-kun?” Voices rise in agreement, and Akechi adjusts his gloves, completely unperturbed.

“I’m at least allowed some secrets, aren’t I?” There is a ghost of a smirk on his face as he says this.

Ryuji and Ann hoot obnoxiously, Makoto turning a similar shade of red as Ren once she registers the implications of his words. Something is wrong, _terribly_ wrong; Akechi shouldn’t be this collected, shouldn’t be so effortlessly airy about a topic this serious. _Is_ it serious to Akechi? Or is it just a game to him, like it is to everyone else? Ren finds himself desperate for an answer, and he lifts his gaze to meet Akechi’s, expression vaguely demanding.

But Akechi’s smirk only widens. He tucks his hair behind his ear—a dastardly move—and bats his eyelashes before looking away. That _jerk._

“Can someone go get Futaba?” Makoto sighs, rubbing her temples in exasperation.

While Yusuke leaves his spot to peek down the stairs and call for her, Ryuji and Ann pester Akechi with even _more_ dirty questions. Stubbornly, Ren tunes them out. It wouldn’t do for his self-control to succumb to his curiosity.

It’s only when footsteps are heard thumping up the stairs that Ren snaps out of his reverie. “Okay guys,” Futaba says, out-of-breath as she arrives with some plates and utensils. “Sojiro’s bringing up curry for all of us so help me drag this table from the wall.”

A couple of them stand up to help Futaba; Ren, free to stare at Akechi without anyone noticing, tries to subtly get the detective’s attention with the power of his gaze. Either Akechi is blissfully unaware of it or is just ignoring him on purpose—fine, if he wants to play it like _that._ Ren clears his throat noisily, causing Akechi to perk up and face him.

“Oh.” He blinks, feigning innocence. “Yes?”

Ren glares at him, but doesn’t say anything at first. Now that he’s reached this point, he’s not sure what to say. He rakes a hand through his hair. “Um… Sorry about them.”

“Hm? Oh, no, I don’t mind.” Akechi chuckles. And then he _licks his lips._ “In fact, I actually find this quite fun. I never had the time to play such asinine games before.”

Ren loses that sentence somewhere along the line, because he’s too occupied following the way Akechi’s tongue traces his lower lip and disappears behind a row perfect white teeth, flashed in an imitation of a smile. Oh, Akechi is cruel; Ren won’t last long like this. Ren may be vying for the upper hand in their game, but at this point, he’s scrabbling for something Akechi had in his possession for a much longer time.

He isn’t sure whether this newfound information is desirable or not.

For now, the remaining Thieves return to their seats, including the ones who had went downstairs to retrieve their meal from Sojiro. An array of food decorates the table, consisting mostly of Sojiro’s curry and the snacks they bought prior. Futaba nudges Akechi’s shoulder.

“You’re gonna ask _me_ a question next, right? Better make it count,” she jeers, reaching for the bag of chips.

Akechi motions for Futaba to move her hair to the side before inclining his head towards her, voice hushed but audible enough that Ren can catch the inflections of it. The soft, smooth tone of voice Akechi uses makes Ren shiver imperceptibly.

“Whaaat? You could have done worse, but whatever.” Futaba rolls her eyes, sneering. She pops a chip in her mouth. “I gotta go with Ren on this one too.”

“Please tell me you’re not asking to suck my dick,” Ren deadpans, trying to play off his uncertainty about earlier, but Futaba just blows a raspberry at him.

“What makes you think I’d choose _you_ for that? Anyways, Ann, the coin.”

“You got it!”

After taking a bite of her curry, Ann flips the coin. Ren isn’t really watching at this point; he’s distracted, stealing glances at Akechi against his better judgement. Akechi is entirely unruffled. He has taken up his plate of curry and is licking the spoon for sauce, an action that he surely does just to be an asshole. The little shit.

“Heads!” Ann proclaims at last, holding up the coin for everyone to see.

“Aw, man.” Futaba flops back onto her seat. “Don’t hate me, Ren.”

Around the spoon, Akechi’s lips curl into a taunting smile. “I asked her who she thinks has the biggest sex drive among the Phantom Thieves.”

Ren’s jaw drops, the thought crossing his mind that his friends _really_ want to make him miserable. He swallows dryly. Akechi’s giving him that _look_ again.

“Why not Ryuji?” Ren argues, once he has the sense enough to. He nods towards the boy in question, and in retaliation Ryuji sputters angrily.

“Hey! Stop trying to avoid the truth, she chose _you!_ ”

“Yeah, chose _wrongly._ ”

“Come on!” Futaba counters, mischief plain as day on her face. “Take one look at the guy and tell me he _wouldn’t_ have the sexual appetite of a fucking bonobo. I mean, think about it. He goes on a practical rampage killing shadows in the Metaverse, and he flirts with half of Tokyo on a daily basis. Don’t sex and aggressiveness go hand-in-hand?”

“That… may be conflating it a little, but I don’t see any reason to confirm or deny that,” Makoto admits. Ren squawks in offense.

“What the hell? I thought you were on my side, Makoto.” He pouts, folding his arms over his chest. He glimpses Akechi and, for a brief moment, sees his expression flicker into something incomprehensible. And then it’s gone as quick as it came.

“I wasn’t aware you flirted that often,” Akechi notes, a curious note in his tone.

Fiddling with his bangs, Ren answers, “I don’t. She’s exaggerating.”

“Like hell I am!” Futaba leans onto Akechi’s side, shouldering him suggestively. “I swear every time we hang out he runs into some rando that claims to be ‘friends’ with him. Ask the other Thieves! The same thing happens to them. From what I know, he probably picks up swooning strangers on the streets during his free time or something.”

“That’s—” Ren pauses. “Not true. I don’t flirt with them.”

“They flirt with you, though. Or so didn’t you notice?”

The back-and-forth starts to get tiring, and Ren decides he doesn’t like the way Akechi’s expression grows increasingly pensive. “That’s irrelevant,” he says evasively. “Besides, Futaba, it’s your turn.”

Futaba pulls herself off of Akechi, grinning. “So it is!”

With that, the next few questions float by in a flurry of chitchat and rowdy hollering, most of the coin tosses resulting in tails to follow the temporary surge of heads. Questions grow progressively filthier before Ann herself has to forfeit for fear of it escalating too far. Ren avoids the brunt of the whiplash, of course; he doesn’t experience anything half as bad as when Akechi essentially confessed to wanting to suck him off.

But maybe it’s because Akechi expressly avoids saying his name for the rest of the game that he doesn’t get humiliated like before.

In any case, Ren doesn’t pay too much attention to the game itself, as his mind drifts off, more often than not, to unsavory thoughts. Akechi does a good job of pretending he doesn’t care about his earlier statement, but his staring is overt. More so when the game ends, and everyone is shuffling around gathering their stuff and cleaning their mess.

“Tell Boss we said thank you for the food,” Ryuji tells Ren as he gets ready to descend the stairs. “See ya guys at the next meeting, I guess.”

“Yeah! Bye everyone!” Ann waves cheerily, not a hint of fatigue in her voice.

Haru and Makoto leave next, followed by Yusuke, who packs a generous helping of leftover curry to bring home with him. Of course, with Futaba only living a block away, she stays longer to give Ren a hand in closing up.

“This was fun,” she comments. Unlike Ann, she is clearly drowsy, though still determined to stay awake and help Ren wash all the dishes. Ren smiles gratefully at her. Although she raised hell for him today, it was refreshing to see her bond so naturally with the other Thieves—Akechi included. He turns his attention towards the plate in his hands, scrubbing a washcloth over it.

“I’m glad you had fun. You don’t have to stay and help me wash, though.”

“Whaaat? Why not?”

Ren shakes his head fondly. “Because this is the longest you’ve had to socialize with a group and you’re obviously exhausted by it. Get some rest.”

Huffing, Futaba plucks her hands out of the sink and wipes them on a nearby dishcloth. “Fine. I’ll go now. But, uh, will you be okay? Akechi is still upstairs, y’know.”

Ren, furrowing his brows, puts down the dish he’s holding and shuts off the sink. “He is? I thought he would have left.”

“Me too.” Futaba’s eyes drop to the floor, twiddling her thumbs. “He probably won’t do anything. Not yet. He’s got a bigger plan and stuff. But I’m still telling you to be careful, okay? I can go grab Morgana from wherever he is—he’s usually roaming around in the convenience store and even though it kind of intimidates me to go in there, I’ll be fine for the most part—”

“Futaba. Don’t worry about it.” He puts a hand on Futaba’s shoulder, smiling disarmingly. With some tentativeness, she smiles back, giving a firm nod.

“I’ll see you tomorrow. Get Akechi to leave as soon as possible, okay? And text me when he does. If he stays too long, I’ll get worried and rush over.”

“You don’t have to do that, but if it makes you feel better, I’ll try.” Ren nods towards the door. “Now shoo, it’s way past your bedtime.”

Futaba sticks her tongue out at him, flipping him off. “Fuck _off_. But… goodnight.”

Ren ruffles her hair. “Goodnight to you too.”

After she leaves, Ren doesn’t bother finishing with the dishes; he dries his hands and ascends the stairs, warily peeking around the corner in search of Akechi.

Like Futaba had claimed, he is somehow still mooning around the attic; he sits on the couch, legs crossed, scrolling boredly through his phone. He looks up when he hears Ren enter, a sly smile curling at his lips.

“Ren. Do you need anything?”

Ren plays with his fringe. “No… But I was wondering if _you_ needed anything?”

Akechi blinks, his lashes fluttering. “What do you mean?”

“You haven’t gone home yet.” It’s an observation as much as it is an insinuation—they both know Akechi’s behavior is suspicious. Akechi chuckles, pocketing his phone.

“My apologies, I wasn’t aware you were trying to get rid of me.”

“I’m not,” Ren answers quickly. “I was just wondering why you were still here, is all.”

“Hmm.” Uncrossing his legs, Akechi stands up and strides, casually slow, in Ren’s direction. “Well, can’t I just say that I don’t want to go home and leave it at that?” He stops once he is a foot away from the other boy, their noses close to touching. Ren sucks in a shaky breath. This kind of closeness is—he takes a step back.

“You can,” he agrees, anxious from the proximity. Akechi closes the distance again—Ren takes another step backward. Humming playfully, Akechi follows his footsteps, one after one, until Ren is backed up against the wall, almost no space between them. He’s trapped.

“I just wanted to talk, you know,” Akechi whispers, his breath hot against Ren’s face.

Ren gulps. “Talk?” His tongue is dry.

“Yes, talk. There are some things I want to sort out.” Akechi tilts his head, gaze calculating as it scans the boy before him, before finally settling on Ren’s eyes. “You agree, yes? That we have some things we need to work out.”

The words “work out” leave Akechi’s lips in a slow, almost thick murmur, and Ren has to suppress the shudder that almost runs through him. This is weird, so fucking _weird_. It’s not like Akechi to pull something like this—or has he always been this way, and just never found the appropriate opportunity to unveil it?

Ren works his jaw. “I don’t understand what you’re implying.”

“Oh, please.” Akechi smiles sharply. “Don’t think that I haven’t noticed. You’ve been sending me glances the entire evening like a lovesick schoolboy. You have something you want to say to me, don’t you? Or am I just imagining it?”

Ren dithers over this, his face hot. Denying it would be the best option, and yet… with Akechi as observant as he is… would it even matter? Ren bites his lip. The way Akechi is looking at him, as if tearing at the root of his being, makes shivers flit across his spine. He needs to regain control somehow. _Fast._

“You say that like you haven’t been doing the same thing,” Ren bites back, lips curled.

Akechi raises his brow, amusement dancing in his eyes. “You were doing it first.”

“… I…” Intimidated by Akechi’s nonchalance, Ren averts his gaze. He never knew someone other than him could be so impassive. “Did you mean it?”

“Mean what?” Akechi asks.

Ren bites the inside of his cheek. “What you said. During the game.”

“I said a lot of things,” Akechi answers, but he knows full well what Ren is referring to. The wicked glint in his eyes speaks volumes, and if it wasn’t so charming, Ren would have slapped the arrogance from his face in a heartbeat.

“Do you want me to spell it out for you?” Ren mutters. Akechi laughs easily.

“Actually, _yes_ , I do. Care to enlighten me?”

 _Holy shit._ This guy is impossible. Bracing his hand on Akechi’s shoulder, Ren nudges him forward, pushing away from the wall, and then—Akechi returns the force, pinning him back onto the wall with his body. Ren gasps, fingers clutching Akechi’s shirt.

“Wh-What are you—?”

Akechi closes his lips over Ren’s, silencing him for a moment; he presses into Ren eagerly, his hands taking hold of his jaw. Ren is frozen, unresponsive, and yet instinct tells him to return the kiss, so he follows Akechi’s lead sloppily, a sort of desperation seeping into his movements before he pulls away with a smack.

“What the fuck was that?” Ren breathes, panting heavily. Akechi wets his lips.

“Is this not what you what you wanted to discuss?” he says.

“This—Akechi, I wasn’t—” Growling in frustration, Ren seizes his collar and yanks him closer, hissing, “Fuck, you think this is a game? You admit to wanting to blow me, and then you kiss me like it’s nothing! I know you were following the rules of the game, but with all of these hints you’ve been fucking dropping, how can I just laugh it off and forget about it—”

Akechi doesn’t wait for him to finish, muffling him with his lips again. Ren snarls, tangles his fingers in Akechi’s hair and tugs at it urgently.

This is _exactly_ what he’s been trying to avoid. Intimacy with Akechi, in any shape or form, is extremely unnecessary, and highly discouraged. But Akechi’s tongue is in his mouth, prodding insistently, and Ren can do nothing but reciprocate—can do nothing but let that distinct heat build in his stomach, hot and pulsing with desire.

He thinks he’s going crazy. To acknowledge it would be to admit defeat, and he wants to stay in control a little while longer, so with a pull of Akechi’s locks, he separates their lips and stares hard into Akechi’s eyes, finding that the other’s are half-lidded and hazy with lust.

 _Shit…_ “What do you want from me, Akechi?” he whispers, breathing hard. It’s warm, dangerously so, and Akechi’s hands are fisted tightly into his shirt.

“I don’t know.”

Ren lofts a brow. “You don’t know?”

“I…” Akechi’s lips move soundlessly, grappling for the correct words. Ren can’t help but feel smug at this uncharacteristic display of uncertainty. Still, he’s in very much the same state as Akechi; he can’t think through the fuzzy nothingness in his head, and having Akechi’s face so close to him isn’t doing much to help clear his mind.

“I’m not imagining it, am I?” Akechi draws impossibly closer, their lips brushing as he speaks. “You want me.”

Ren takes a deep breath. “It’s… complicated.”

“That’s not a no.”

Laughing breathlessly, Ren attempts to argue, but Akechi just kisses him again. Figures. Maybe it’s from the pain of hearing the truth—the fact that there is no truth, just craftily-worded lies—or the desire to forget. It doesn’t matter. Not when Akechi’s mouth is melting all forms of protests from his tongue, swallowing him greedily, frantically. Ren surrenders, burying his fingers further into Akechi’s hair to press him closer, parting their lips to deepen the kiss.

Guiding him forward, Akechi traps him once more against the wall; he slots their bodies together so that there is nothing left between. The contact makes heat climb up Ren’s body, unforgiving. It’s much too tempting. Now he’s _really_ wondering if he has the biggest sex drive of the Phantom Thieves, but there isn’t much time to wonder. Akechi is slipping his knee between Ren’s thighs, tangling their legs together and robbing him of all thought.

“Akechi…” Pulling away, Ren seizes the momentary pause to ask the burning question: “Are you sure about this?”

Akechi furrows his brows. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

 _Because you’re supposed to hate me and shoot me between the eyes in a dark investigation room?_ “You might regret it.”

Akechi doesn’t need to answer. His smoldering gaze does wonders to urge Ren into compliance.

As Akechi leans back forward, stringing his arms around Ren’s neck, Ren lavishes kisses along Akechi’s jawline, jerking his head back for better access. Akechi’s resulting sigh is encouraging. Ren presses forward, sucking at the sore spots he creates with his teeth, and he knows, he _knows,_ they’re going to regret this later, but damn if this doesn’t feel good. Having Akechi vulnerable to him, baring a side to Ren he’s _sure_ no one has seen before…

“Ah…” Akechi gasps, rocking his hips forward. The friction is unexpected, and deliciously hot. Moaning under his breath, Ren refastens his grip on Akechi’s hair, using it to steady himself as he returns the motion, rendering Akechi a panting mess.

“Ren,” Akechi mewls. He grinds right back, pleading, “Can I… Let me…”

With a hum, Ren mouths against his skin, wordlessly prompting him to continue.

But Akechi doesn’t. _Modest, even up until now._ Spurred on by his silence, Ren reaches up to unfasten his tie and unbutton his shirt—at least, enough that he can slip his fingers underneath it, feeling up Akechi’s stomach and chest. It can’t be wise, drawing this farce out any longer than it needs to be. Wasn’t the idea simply to get each other off? Still, Akechi’s soft sigh as Ren’s thumbs brush against his nipples meddles with his self-control. Ren realizes, belatedly, that he wants this.

No. More like, he _needs_ this.

It’s scary to want. Ren is surprised by the desire that floods his senses, singing loud in his ears at the way Akechi trembles beneath his touch. Goro Akechi has always been the hitch in his otherwise perfect equanimity. He is a hurdle blocking Ren’s way to success, impossible to simply ignore, but far too risky to leap over.

Maybe they both need this release. A way to drain the pent-up tension that had been curling knots into their bodies for so long. _And I have no shortage of_ that _in these circumstances,_ Ren muses, observing Akechi’s reaction to his teasings.

Akechi arches into Ren as he carefully rubs the peaks of his nipples, feeling how they harden underneath his ministrations. It’s enough to make Ren swallow through the tightness in his throat. His tongue feels impossibly dry.

“Ren,” Akechi pants, pushing away from him on unsteady feet. Tilting his head curiously, Ren watches Akechi collect himself, licking his swollen lips, and then he’s sinking to his knees.

Ren’s breath hitches in his throat.

“Akechi—” A palm rubs up against the growing bulge in his pants, and Ren moans, finding purchase on Akechi’s soft hair. Akechi smirks up at him, slowly undoing his belt.

Is this what they call self-fulfilling prophecy? Ren can’t focus, his senses blurring as Akechi begins to mouth him through his boxers. Ren throws his head against the wall, gasping, no time to catch his breath when Akechi eagerly pulls him out of his underwear, flicking his tongue out to catch the precum drooling from the tip.

The moan that tumbles from Ren’s mouth is downright _obscene._ What is going on. What the _fuck_ is going on. He’s getting sucked off by his rival in the attic of Leblanc, unbelievably horny because of some stupid _party game_ , and he’s enjoying it, god, is he enjoying it—

“Akechi—” Desperately, he thrusts his hips forward. His fingers tangle in Akechi’s fringe, pushing the stray hairs back and revealing his large crimson eyes. The look on Akechi’s face… well, needless to say, Ren doesn’t need any more jack-off material in his life. He tugs pointedly at Akechi’s hair, and Akechi moans around his cock, bobbing his head shallowly, enthusiastically.

When Akechi pulls off, he drags his tongue up the shaft, swirling around the head. And then he closes his lips around the tip and hollows his cheeks, sucking hard.

Every minute of this is unreal. The heat of Akechi’s tongue, his warm breath, his soft moans. Breathing unevenly, Ren fastens both of his hands on Akechi’s scalp and pulls him back by his hair. Akechi, not to be interrupted, slides his tongue out to reach what he can, lapping messily up his length.

 _God,_ Ren thinks, dick twitching. How does Akechi manage to betray his expectations at every turn? It isn’t fair. He wants to catch Akechi off-guard, too.

Collecting his thoughts, Ren murmurs, “You’re so eager,” gripping tighter as he drinks in the sight of Akechi whining under his breath. Showing some mercy, Ren loosens his hold and allows Akechi to sink his head forward over his cock. “Have you always wanted to suck my dick, Akechi?”

Akechi whimpers brokenly. He swallows deeper than ever before, and watching the whole of his shaft disappear into Akechi’s mouth _does_ things to Ren’s nerves that he never thought possible. Ren bucks his hips, unable to resist the soft, tight warmth, and Akechi gags around his length. Releasing him, Akechi coughs into his sleeve, glancing at Ren with half-lidded, glossy eyes.

Ren’s cock throbs with need. “Hey… if it’s too much—”

He doesn’t let Ren finish that line of thought. Classic Akechi, derailing a conversation when it isn’t fixed to his advantage. But Ren isn’t complaining, reveling in the feel of Akechi’s lips wrapping around his shaft and sucking lightly. Akechi lifts one of his hands, dropping his glove, and he curls his fingers around the part of the shaft that his mouth can’t reach. His long and slow strokes make a moan bubble out of Ren’s lips.

“ _God…_ ” Ren can’t control his breathing. “You’re so good, Akechi… _fuck_ —”

Akechi’s high-pitched whine sends vibrations up his length, Ren moaning at the feel of it. His movements grow desperate, his head bobbing up and down at almost a brutal pace. It’s sloppy, and can’t possibly be comfortable for Akechi, but he’s so tight and wet and eager to please that all worries fly out the window. Ren’s mind turns blank with pleasure and sensation. His gut is tightening, curling with a lazy heat. The suction is incredible. He feels fit to burst.

“Good… good boy… shit, I’m close…” Ren’s not sure where this string of praises originates from; still, Akechi’s shuddering frame reveals just how much he enjoys hearing those words from Ren’s lips. Petting him encouragingly, Ren presses against the back of Akechi’s head, watching him take in more of his length before swallowing around it.

At the pace Akechi is going in, there’s no way he’s going to last. “I’m gonna come,” he chokes out. “Akechi…”

 _Pull him off,_ his mind thinks frantically, but not fast enough for him to actually do it. He arches his back and comes into Akechi’s mouth, moaning, writhing as his hips shakily thrust a few more times before relaxing into Akechi’s grip. Akechi closes his eyes, working him through his orgasm. How he manages _not_ to gag and still lap up his head, catching the remnants of his cum, is the farthest thing from Ren’s mind right now.

He sighs and covers his face with his hands. He’s still coming down from his high when he musters the strength to look down, glimpsing Akechi’s flushed cheeks and lust-ridden eyes. Some distance lower and Ren can see the bulge pressing against Akechi’s tight slacks.

“You’re hard,” he observes, dumbly. Akechi blinks slow, like a cat.

“I am. And?”

 _Jesus, I seriously can’t think right now._ “Get up.”

Standing clumsily, Akechi has only time to shoot him a puzzled glance before Ren yanks him by the lapels of his jacket. When he falls forward, Ren captures his lips and tastes his cum on the crevices of Akechi’s mouth. For a moment, that’s all he knows; that’s all he feels. Akechi’s lips against him, warm and pleasantly tender.

“Mmph—” Akechi pushes him away. “I’m fine, I-I don’t really—”

“Stop saying that.” Ren is tired of this. He wants Akechi to relinquish his power, too. It’s only fair, when Ren so generously let Akechi drive him mad with his mouth. Desire brewing in his gut, Ren shoves Akechi’s blazer off the rest of the way, then pulls on Akechi’s loose tie to let it flutter onto the ground. Akechi’s wide eyes and parted lips only intensify his need, and Ren pauses, if only to leave room for any leftover protests.

“Ren… I…” Akechi licks his lips. Does he not know how to ask for something he wants?

Ren huffs. Seizing his shoulders, he spins them around so that Akechi is the one against the wall and Ren is holding both of his wrists over his head. Akechi looks wild, hair askew and mouth open and panting, vulnerable for once. It makes Ren’s stomach churn.

 _I did this. I made him like this._ Sweet, stuck-up Akechi. The fakest part-time member of the Phantom Thieves. A groan almost makes its way out of his throat, but he just presses flush against Akechi, kissing him messily. Akechi moans and melts under him.

“Do you want me to touch you?” he teases into Akechi’s mouth, taking his soft lower lip between his teeth and tugging insistently. Akechi can only whimper.

Ren digs his knee into Akechi’s crotch. “Say it. I want to hear you.”

_I want to see you lose it. I want to see you beg._

“Ah…” Akechi gasps. “I… I want you to touch me, Ren.”

A fire lights up within him at the words. He never knew it’d be _this_ much of a rush to have the detective under his mercy, and he doesn’t want to waste this chance, scrambling to undo the buttons of Akechi’s pants with his free hand. With his wrists trapped over his head, Akechi squirms and struggle against his restraints, whining: “Ren—let me go, I want to—”

“Shut up,” Ren growls, squeezing him harder. Whatever accounts for this abrupt surge of anger, he doesn’t know. Actually, he doesn’t even care. The only thing that matters to him right now is unwinding the hot coil waiting to burst at his core.  

All of a sudden, an idea flickers through his head. Spontaneous, a bit bizarre, but also the least of his worries when all he’s trying to do is make this easier on himself. Pulling away, he reaches for Akechi’s tie with his foot and tosses it up, catching it in his left hand. He then starts to fasten it around Akechi’s wrists, making it tight for the hell of it.

Akechi doesn’t fight him. In fact, he looks too dazed to comprehend what he’s doing until his eyes widen in realization, bewildered and titillated in equal measure.

He opens his mouth to say something, but Ren doesn’t want to hear it. He shuts him up with his lips, a pleased hum vibrating between them when Akechi follows his lead obediently. Snaking a hand down, Ren slips his hand into Akechi’s boxers and starts palming him.

Akechi’s surprised gasp allows Ren an opening to shove his tongue into his mouth. Beneath him, Akechi is hot and hard, unbelievably slick with precum, and his muted whimpers make some part of Ren flare up with a primal hunger. He wants to draw those noises out longer. He wants to make them _louder._ He switches to pumping Akechi’s cock, the other boy choking out a strained moan. It’s not enough. He wants—

“Ren,” Akechi breathes, hips twitching, “Ren, _more._ ”

Ren’s hand falters on Akechi’s dick. “What?”

Akechi pulls the most priceless face when Ren stops pumping him. He grits his teeth and looks away, somehow still managing to be stubborn when he’s desperate enough to be grinding his erection against Ren’s hand.

“Still won’t say it?” Ren sighs, pulling his hand away entirely and causing Akechi to whine. “Come on, I thought we were past this. Just tell me what you want and I can give it to you. Okay?” He nips at Akechi’s ear.

Some of Akechi’s initial obstinance drips away from his expression. It softens the lines on his face, turns it into willing resignation. Releasing a shuddery breath, Akechi lowers his bound arms so that they encircle Ren’s neck, leaning their foreheads together. His gaze is too powerful. Ren finds himself magnetized by it, and a short sigh leaves his nose as Akechi starts kissing him lightly.

“I… want you inside of me,” Akechi whispers, the words brushing against Ren’s lips.

Ren goes rigid in his arms. He wasn’t expecting Akechi to give in that fast.

“Are you sure?” Ren asks, and Akechi looks offended that he even had to ask.

“Shall I repeat myself?”

Ren does not enjoy the cockiness on Akechi’s face at all. _I just have to beat him at his own game,_ Ren thinks, grabbing the dangling part of Akechi’s tie and using it to pull him toward the bed. Akechi gasps, stumbling after him. With a swift push, he lands onto the mattress and Ren climbs over him, grip strong with intention. Beneath him, Akechi squirms.

“Ren…” Akechi whispers. He doesn’t continue his sentence.

For a moment, Ren pauses, gaze roaming over Akechi’s body. Having Akechi under him is… strange, but not at all undesirable. Desire simmers low in his stomach, swelling at the sight of Akechi’s flushed cheeks and half-undone shirt.

The reality of it all comes crashing down on him. _What are we doing?_ Ren’s heart twinges in shame. Akechi watches him, his brows furrowed, chest heaving as he pants.

“Well?” Akechi nudges him impatiently. Ren blinks out of his trance.

Fumbling with the last of Akechi’s shirt buttons, Ren pushes the fabric aside to reveal his chest, fixating particularly on his swollen pink nipples. Without thinking, he pitches forward to take one in his mouth and suck at it indulgently. Akechi bucks his hips and moans.

“Stop _teasing_ me,” he whines, tone increasing in pitch the longer Ren rolls his tongue over his nipple. It’s dizzying, being so completely in control, and the need to make Akechi _plead_ overrides all logical thought. To take apart the unflappable, self-possessed Detective Prince—what fruit could be tastier? Ren’s desire morphs, suddenly, into aggravation.

 _He’s been making us suffer for so long…_ he thinks, tugging and pinching at the hardening nipple, delighting in how the flush on Akechi’s face deepens in agonized want. _I want to show him who has the upper hand in this battle._

_It’s me._

_I’m the one in control._

_He’s going to lose…_

These thoughts swarm him suddenly, and the cold flash of fear that flits through his skin throws him off. He shakes it off by burying his face into Akechi’s neck and biting down there, marking it up. He wants to drown out his dread, turn his desperation into something that suits the situation more than surrendering to anger. Knowing that, he bites down harder, soaks in Akechi’s scent that renders him lightheaded and giddy.

Akechi’s breath is heavy in his ear. He looks torn, unable to resist but restless beneath the tempting touches that Ren lavishes him with. _Good. Make him beg for it._

“Ren… please…” Akechi murmurs. Not forceful enough for Ren to actually consider it. Nipping Akechi’s collarbone, Ren travels higher up, sucking beneath his jaw to distract from the hand that snakes its way down Akechi’s pants. He deftly undoes the button and zipper and shoves his pants and boxers down to his knees, where Akechi kicks it off obligingly.

Almost fully naked, Akechi’s arousal becomes that much more apparent. “Fuck me,” he breathes, rolling his hips into the air. A smirk fights its way onto Ren’s face.

“Sorry, but if you haven’t noticed…” He grips Akechi’s erection, squeezing hard at the base. “We’re playing by _my_ rules here. So be a good boy and behave, okay?”

He can’t say he’s proud of the words that come out of his mouth, but Akechi’s expression makes the initial embarrassment absolutely worth it. He thinks he could get used to this.

And certainly, seeing Akechi frustrated and desperate beneath him puts Ren on some kind of power high, and he can’t help but want to tease a little longer. Releasing Akechi’s length, Ren shifts away to fetch the bottle of lube he keeps hidden underneath his bed. Akechi’s labored breathing slices the air, punctuated by low whimpers every now and then. Ren can tell—Akechi is holding on by a mere thread at this point. After all, glass can only withstand a certain amount of pressure before it shatters… and Ren wants to see Akechi _break_.

“Relax,” is the only warning he gives, his lube-coated fingers prodding at Akechi’s entrance. Akechi’s breath hitches. Easing a finger in, Ren stretches him out enough so that a second finger can follow, properly scissoring and thrusting into the tight, wet heat.

“G-God…” Akechi’s face contorts in pleasure. He sinks down onto Ren’s fingers, body jerking against his own will. Licking his lips, Ren dives his fingers deeper, twisting them around until Akechi’s eyes and mouth fly open, moaning loud and wanton. The sound is so vulgar that it sends shivers down Ren’s spine, makes him start to go hard again. He very nearly pulls his fingers out with the intent of fucking Akechi himself.

 _Not yet,_ he chides himself, pushing his fingers inside harder. He adds a third digit just to tease at the spot that rips whimpers and moans from Akechi’s throat. _He hasn’t surrendered yet, so I can’t, either._

“Ren,” Akechi breathes, tears gathering at the rims of his eyes. He’s flushed and squirming, cock fully erect and dribbling precum, brows furrowed as he tries to take in the harsh pace of Ren’s fingers. “N—No more—if you keep going, I’ll—”

“You’ll what?” A sharp smirk splits Ren’s features. He has him right where he wants him.

The glower that Akechi levels at him only lasts for a few seconds before it melts away, overcome by helplessness at a particularly hard thrust. He arches his back, knees falling apart and toes curling.

“Ah! Please… d-don’t…”

“Louder,” Ren murmurs, leaning forward to better see his face.

“ _Please,_ Ren…”

 _Almost_. But not quite. He wants to see Akechi lose all inhibitions. He wants to see his expression when he’s completely engulfed by pleasure, mind blank and all common sense lost. Ren curls his fingers, rubs at Akechi’s prostate a little longer, and Akechi cries out.

“R—Ren!” He gasps, and _oh—_ Ren must have struck the jackpot. Akechi keeps babbling nonsense, begging for Ren to _fuck me, please, please, please_ , eyes squeezing shut with pleasure, and the complete and utter vulnerability that bleeds into his face severs the last cord holding Ren’s self-control together. Humming his satisfaction, Ren pulls out and wipes his fingers on his sheets, Akechi gasping at the loss. He looks equal parts frustrated and exhilarated. _Serves him right,_ Ren thinks, quietly amused.

Expectedly, Ren’s cock is hard again; he pulls off his pants and reaches for the lube, spreading some on his palm and pumping himself urgently.

“Do we need a condom?” he asks breathlessly, delighting in the way Akechi’s dazed eyes slide in his direction. Akechi can hardly see straight from lust, and _god,_ that’s way more adorable than it should be. “I’m clean, just so you know.”

“… I… am as well…” Akechi’s voice is warm, lustful. Ren’s cock jumps in his hand.

Loathe to keep both Akechi and himself waiting, he forces Akechi’s thighs back as far as they can go and sinks into him, bowing his head and moaning at the heat that swallows his cock whole. Akechi’s hands scrabble for him, but without any freedom, they only struggle against their restraints. Ren presses their foreheads together and pushes in further.

“Shit,” he swears under his breath, throwing his head back as Akechi clenches around him. “Fuck, Akechi, you’re so…”  

Akechi loops his arms around his neck and pulls him closer, foreheads together again, to kiss him feverishly. He isn’t even fully sheathed when Akechi suddenly thrusts his hips down, taking in the rest of him, and they moan against each other’s lips, kiss ceasing so that they can breathe freely. Ren’s hands flit upwards to brush the hair away from Akechi’s face, to see him clearer, to gaze into his eyes.

“Move,” Akechi demands, albeit weakly. Ren doesn’t have the heart to deny him anymore. He rocks his hips, needing this, needing _him,_ clutching Akechi’s thighs hard. Inside Akechi, it’s tight and wet and _hot_ , so, so hot. He can feel his conscience floating away from him, just out of reach. Whatever. He doesn’t need it anymore. There’s a single thread of thought suspending his mind, and that’s the desire to make Akechi scream, to pleasure him to the point of numbness. How could he want anything else?

He slams into Akechi without mercy. Akechi’s sobs ring out across the room, the wet sounds of skin and labored breathing clouding the air. The friction is so good that it borders on pain, but it doesn’t matter, not when Akechi’s panting in his ear so frantically.

“ _Ren,_ ” he mewls. “Ah, please, please… ! Don’t stop…”

Compliantly, Ren pounds him harder. There isn’t any willpower left to think of doing anything else, not really. Warmth is spreading, from his chest to his legs, like hot coals intensifying a restless energy that powers his movements. He thinks he may overheat. With Akechi so pliant beneath him, crying and moaning, it’s difficult _not_ to, and he presses in deeper, until there’s no space left between them and Akechi’s heavy breath is caressing his neck.

“Akechi,” Ren hisses, nuzzling his temple. He eases up on the pace, hitting him slow and deep, drawing out Akechi’s high, needy cries. “God, you’re so good. Scream louder for me.”

Akechi whimpers, wrists pressing harder into Ren’s neck. His body rocks with each thrust, followed by his hips, a wordless beg for more. Lowering his head, Ren nips down Akechi’s neck and chest as he drives his cock hard inside of him. Akechi has so many inches of unmarred skin. That needs to change, and soon.

Digging his nails into Akechi’s soft thighs, Ren buries himself as far as he can go and holds himself there. Akechi’s glossy eyes widen in shock.

“R-Ren… ?” His lips fall open, jaw slackening.

“Shh.” He reaches one hand up and brushes away Akechi’s disheveled hair. “How much do you want it, Akechi?”

“Wh… What?” Akechi blinks, a low whine underlying his tone. Releasing him entirely, Ren drags his nails down Akechi’s chest, scratching lightly at his stomach.

“Beg,” he orders.

Akechi’s expression twists. His face is incredulous, annoyed, even. “Y-You’re… ah…” He tries to buck his hips, but Ren is quicker, delivering a slap to his ass.

“That doesn’t sound like a ‘please’.” He wraps his fingers around Akechi’s erection, grip punishing. “Won’t you beg for me, Akechi?”

“Nn—no, I—ah!”

He arches his back as Ren strokes him, slow, agonizingly so, not enough to elicit the pleasure they’re both seeking. But the way Akechi tightens around his cock fills Ren with sadistic pleasure. “I don’t have all day, Akechi,” he coos, and just to emphasize his point, he moves his hips slightly—it probably brushes against a sensitive spot, as a surprised moan escapes Akechi’s mouth, doubling the desperation weaved into his features.

“ _R-Ren—_ oh, god—”

“Yes?” He continues decorating Akechi’s chest with bites, teeth scraping over a nipple, speeding up his strokes only to slow them down again. “How about this? If you’re a good boy, I’ll untie you. How does that sound?”  

He’s not sure how much of what he says registers in Akechi’s mind, because Akechi looks so utterly wrecked and doped up with lust that thinking must be nigh impossible. Still, Akechi’s vigorous nodding counts for something. He blubbers, “I’ll be good, I promise, Ren, just please—please, I want you so bad, I—I want you to fuck me, anything—”  

“Oh?” Ren’s smile is entirely involuntary. Try as he might, though, he can’t shove it down. “That’s awfully sweet of you, Akechi. Okay, I’ll consider it. But…” He sinks his teeth into Akechi’s collarbone. “Try something and I’ll punish you.”

His dark voice sends shivers up Akechi’s body, harsh enough that it can be felt. Ren nearly smirks. Sliding his cock out just slightly, he pushes in again and resumes a hard, unrelenting pace that has Akechi’s back arching and legs trembling violently. His moans are beautifully loud, a complete contrast to the poised, elegant character he carries about himself. Ren could very well get drunk on the sound alone.

Maybe he already is, given how much his head feels like it’s swimming.

“Ren,” Akechi breathes, wet eyelashes fluttering. “ _Ren._ ”

God, Ren will never get tired of that voice. How it embraces his given name so sweetly, so deceptively sweet. He thrusts in with a low moan, relishing in how eagerly Akechi sucks him in, like they’re meant to be together, like—

 _No._ That can’t be it. This is just physical, that’s it, it’s not—

“Yes,” Akechi cries out suddenly, head tilting back. “Yes, fuck, _there!_ ”

 _God._ Gritting his teeth, Ren angles his hips, slamming into that spot which makes Akechi scream in ecstasy. Ren can’t hold in his voice any longer, and it drips out of him with each movement, each kiss and bite he lays on Akechi’s skin. He’s coiled so tightly now he feels like he’s about to burst. Akechi is warm, he’s _so_ warm, and pleasure dances between their skin like static. But Ren needs to go deeper. He needs to feel _fuller._

“Akechi…” He finishes up marking the detective’s skin to lean his head up and brush their lips together. “You’re such a good boy… you’re _so_ good, you’re driving me crazy…”

Akechi whines pathetically, almost hiccuping. “ _Please_ , Ren, untie me…”

Despite all of his earlier bravado, Ren is helpless to Akechi’s pleas. He’s helpless to his voice, helpless to those eyes. Desperate to feel Akechi’s hands on him, he hastily undoes the tie bounding his wrists together and tosses it aside. Immediately, Akechi’s fingers sink into his hair and yank at his curls. And then again, with so much force that Ren’s head falls back.

“Fuck,” he snarls, leaning back forward to press his forehead so hard against Akechi’s that a sting spreads throughout his skull. Their eyes are locked onto each other, now, breath and sweat and scent mingling. So close. _So close._

Ren speeds up his movements, panting hard. He can sense the desperation seeping into Akechi’s eyes, the way his hips roll up harder and faster, meeting every thrust. Ren won’t last. He’s on fire and he can taste sweet, sweet release, teasing him as he’s driven to the edge.

“Akechi—” Soon, that telltale heat washes over his gut, and his hips move fervently, wanting to draw it out. “Akechi, I’m going to—”  

“Come inside me,” Akechi whispers, right against his lips. “Please, come inside me.”

And Ren, unable to resist him, gives one last thrust before he stiffens, a low moan leaving his lips, his cum filling the deepest part of Akechi’s insides. Akechi rakes his nails down his back as he comes right after him, untouched, rocking his hips to milk out the last of the sensations. Ren’s hand is on him again; he pumps Akechi’s softening dick, the last of Akechi’s cum spurting out over his stomach with one final twitch. And then Ren collapses over him.

Breathing heavily, swallowing, Ren can hear Akechi’s heartbeat drumming against his ear. Akechi’s fingers tangle into his hair. They brush it, gently, a mother’s touch. Ren’s eyes start to droop. Sweat-drenched as the two are, he can feel himself cooling down, vulnerable to the breezy air of the attic.

“… Ren…” Akechi murmurs.

“Mm?” He’s too comfortable to move.

“Your phone.” Unsurprisingly, Akechi’s voice is scratchy from overuse. But Ren fails to detect the urgency in it, content to soak in Akechi’s soft and reassuring heartbeat until his phone starts pinging so relentlessly that it forces his eyes open.

“Jesus, who is that?”

Akechi shrugs. Collecting his thoughts, Ren pulls out of Akechi and glares down at his pants (which, in the heat of their exchange, somehow ended up on the edge of the bed). He crawls over and pulls out his phone.

_Futaba: [1:01 AM] Are you okay?_

_Futaba: [1:15 AM] Uh, Ren?_

“ _Shit_ ,” he mutters, quickly dropping his phone. “It’s Futaba. She said she’d check on me if I didn’t text her after a while, she’s probably on her way—”

“Why?” Akechi narrows his eyes, sitting up now. He doesn’t look irritated, though, only amused. “You’re an idiot.”

“Just help me get dressed,” Ren says, unable to disguise the fondness in his voice. They toss each other their clothes, Ren shoving his limbs through his pants and nearly tripping in his haste to get them on. By the time both boys have righted themselves, Ren is pushing Akechi towards the staircase. He doesn’t miss the way Akechi wobbles on unsteady legs.

Vainly, Ren tries to suppress his smirk. “Now get out of here before she finds you.”

“No need to be so pushy, Ren.” Akechi laughs, turning around so he can catch Ren’s wrist. With that, he pulls him closer, enough that their noses touch. “Tonight was fun,” he breathes, tracing a path down Ren’s chest with his free hand. “Thank you for such a good time.”

Meeting him halfway, Ren indulges Akechi in a brief, chaste kiss, before snatching his wrist away. “Okay, okay, this isn’t good. She doesn’t live that far away, y’know.”

“I know.” Akechi smiles, unusually earnest. “Let me know when our next gathering is. Or… if you want to have a _private_ meeting, I will do my best to be available for that, too.”

He winks, and with that promise lingering in the air, he goes. Like a gentle breeze, or ghost, maybe. The only sign that he had been there is in Ren’s clothes, his skin, his hair.

Ren breathes out a sigh.

 _It’s official…_ he laments. _I’m so fucking smitten._

**Author's Note:**

> can you tell how lazy this is.
> 
> i’m @nonnecheri on twitter if you want to flame me (but don’t actually because i’m a baby)


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